Mimi's Demons

Chapter 66: Don't Hurt the Plushie

She'd seen many skin colors in her day, from the charcoal black of an aboriginal she'd once spotted on the edge of the jungle to her village to the pale, pink-eyed albino client of her master. But never had she seen the dark-ash gray that made the boy's electric green eyes pop. A green that just couldn't be real.

Two black pointed things poked through his almost black hair.

He was looking at her just as hard as she was looking at him. But then his eyes went down to the box and he froze. She glanced down to see a lone Pikachu ear had escaped the box lid.

His expression turned so childlike, so open and wanting that she couldn't help but suddenly see Mimi while they were going through the toy store and her eyes had fallen on Sir Bloods-o-Lot.

Just like Mimi, though, the boy stiffened up, drawing inwards as though the toy were a trap.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Why are you here?"

"Because I want to be," said Omen simply, his low voice rumbling off the bare walls of the windowless room. He set the boxes on the lone rug and gestured to Serena to do the same, who somehow managed not to just drop it like she had before, even though her arms had gone numb. Maybe she should look into weight training.

"What are those?"

"Gifts," said Omen.

"What for?"

"Because I felt like it," said Omen. "They're from me, not the boss. I had money gathering dust and find it stress relieving to shop for children."

"I'm not a child," said the boy in almost a growl. "I'm a demon."

Serena almost snorted at that, because honestly, was that what this was bout? The boss was keeping a cosplaying kid in his basement who protected himself by insisting he was a demon? Was that why he kept that big ass leathery trenchcoat on the back of the chair? In case he needed to pretend he had wings?

Feeling she might as well milk this forbidden trip for what it was worth, Serena took out the Pikachu plush.

"Damn, this fur is high quality," she said as though to herself. "Where'd you buy this?"

Omen shrugged, even as the 'demon' kid's eyes riveted on the Pikachu. His hands were twitching and balling in his lap, clearly fighting the urge to reach out and touch.

Serena rubbed her face on it. "Freaking soft." She gave it a squeeze. "Squishy."

"Don't—" started the kid, already half way out of his chair.

She squeezed it harder. "Does it squeak or something? I've heard these things talk sometime—"

The Pikachu vanished. Serena blinked, clasping empty air. She hadn't even seen the kid move. But when she looked up there he was, just feet away from her, clutching the Pikachu to his chest like a precious puppy rather than a stuffed animal, glaring at her through the gap made by bat-like wings half cupped about him.

She blinked again. So, not a trenchcoat. How'd he get those things to do that? Animatronics?

"There's also a TV," said Omen, who had his Sikh knife out cutting open the first box which, indeed, was a modest sized flat screen TV. "I got you a Nintendo with some games. They looked like they'd be fun. You should let me know if they are or not, maybe Mimi would like to try."

At the word 'Mimi,' the boy stiffened as he never had before, eyes wide and wings so rigid even the leathery cloth between the spines didn't so much as ripple.

He gulped, hugging the Pikachu up tight to his chin and looking away.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I already told you. I have the money and have a hobby of toy shopping." Another snap of tape gave way to Omen's knife. "No kids to give it to. And it's rather bare down here."